The mission

After Matthew 16:21-30 

He explains the mission,

building his church, and

then he amplifies it,

over time, outlining

the story of what was

to come: to go

to Jerusalem; to suffer

at the hands of the elites,

the elders, the priests,

the scribes; to die; to be

raised. Peter, ever ready

to speak, often without

thinking, rebukes him:

it will never happen,

implying they will

rally to his defense

and protect him. Peter

is rebuked, this rock

upon which the church

will be built, called

a hindrance preoccupied

with the ways of man,

not God.

 

Photograph by Luke Miller via Unsplash. Used with permission.

Some Sunday Readings

 

Sunday Style and the Devil’s Beat – Andrew Osenga.

 

Mom, You’re Amazing. Here’s Why – Grace Thomas at Gracenotes.

 

Motherhood is Fun – Nadya Williams at Mere Orthodoxy.

 

Missions Will Draw Out the Worst in You – Brett Rahl at Desiring God.

I am a steward

After Ephesians 3:1-13

I am a steward, 

a minister entrusted

with a gift, chosen

to bring the gift,

to bring the light,

to those previously

cut off, walled off.

I am a minister,

not through education

or training or merit

of my own, but only

through the gift

of grace given me.

The task set before me:

to preach those those

previously unreachable,

to bring the gift

into the light for all.

And if I suffer,

it is by grace.

And if I suffer,

do not lose heart.

And if I suffer,

rejoice in the gift

that is yours.

Photograph by Markus Spiske via Unsplash. Used with permission.

The right moment

After Ephesians 3:1-13

Perfectly timed,

the revelation

was unveiled,

the curtain opened,

the word explained

to include all 

who heard it, all

who listened, all

who heeded its call.

A new day, 

a day of wonder,

a frightened day,

dawned.

A new day,

bringing light,

bringing grace.

The mystery that was

is no longer.

Photograph by Eric Muhr via Unsplash. Used with permission.

The prisoner

After Ephesians 3:1-13

In chains behind bars,

clarity can grow

from a  small pinpoint

of light in the darkness

to a blinding sun.

So, too, can love, oddly

enough, love given

as a gift to share

to those considered

beyond the pale,

untouchable, tolerated

only because of numbers

but previously despised,

nonetheless. The gift was

revelation into a mystery,

that all are now equal,

favoritism leveled,

distinctions destroyed.

All are now chosen,

all are now heirs,

all are now people

of the promise.

Photograph by Schesco Nyarwaya via Unsplash. Used with permission.

A Community of Four – For a Week

The church had never quite had a short-term mission team like this one.

A chemist. A retired engineer. And a PR guy / writer.

Our assignment: An eight-day trip to Eastern Europe, with a whirlwind itinerary: Budapest, Prague, Dresden, Brno, and back to Budapest. We were to interview missionaries, to help with their support-raising efforts; film the world of the mission underway across cities in Eastern Europe; do a short film to help with fundraising to buy a permanent building for the mission in Budapest. And prepare a series of reports that could be used by the mission agency back in the United States.

None of us had been to Eastern Europe before.

The retired engineer – Jack – manned the video camera. I was the writer and interviewer. The chemist – Steve – was the gaffer, trip manager, equipment manager, and general factotum.

We trained for months – studied, planned, discussed, and met. We practiced interviewing missionaries. We pored over maps and some of the history and background of the places we would be visiting and the people we would be meeting. We also spent time getting to know each other. And somewhere in that time the team became a small community.

Once we landed in Budapest, we would have a fourth member of the team – Gary, one of the permanent missionaries. He would be our guide, chauffeur, teacher, answerer of questions, hotel finder, translator, and church and mission office locator (a sort of human MapQuest).

The mission in Budapest was enthusiastic, we were enthusiastic, and our home church coordinator was enthusiastic. The national mission agency and our own church missions committee were less enthusiastic. We were different. They had never heard of such a team before. Was this more of a vacation than a “real mission trip?” A communications team? Really?

Still, we flew to Budapest. We were waiting for our baggage at the Budapest airport when we learned our overscheduled itinerary had just been thrown out the window. Erfurt in Germany had been added as an itinerary stop, about three to four hours from Dresden (and we drove like Americans, not Germans).

Gary, our driver, slipped right into our little community as if he’d been there all along. He explained what we might see along the roadsides and near border crossings in the two countries with legalized prostitution (he was right). He got us through back streets in the dark of night to find our hotels. As we approached one border crossing, he told us to remove our jackets and throw them across the camera equipment, to discourage confiscation by the border guards.

Four countries, eight days. On our way to Dresden, we stopped for dinner at a restaurant in the Sudeten Mountains, where no one spoke English and all conversation stopped when we walked in. (The menu was, fortunately, in Czech and German; my college German was sufficient to figure out what we could eat.)

We were in cities and suburbs, large towns and small. We filmed interviews with almost 20 missionaries. We filmed the building in Budapest the mission hoped to buy. I wrote story and after story. We ate tomatoes together for breakfast, and had a lunch at the McDonalds in Chemnitz, Germany. We walked down Wenceslas Square together in Prague, and across the Charles Bridge.

Our little community worked. We carried each other’s bags and equipment. We became something of a cohesive news crew, especially when we found ourselves right in the middle of the biggest news story in Europe – the murder of 16 people at a high school in Erfurt. It was at that school and the small church nearby whose pastor was ministering to the bereaved families where we met the Holy Spirit.

Most of the writing and film editing work happened after we were home. Did our community succeed at its task?

Missionaries were helped with support, and their video reports sent to their home churches and supporters. The video for the hoped-for mission building in Budapest succeeded in helping raise the needed funds. The people working in the mission were encouraged.

And we, our little band of three plus one, were changed. Forever.

Over at The High Calling, a community linkup has been posted for the theme of the power of community. If you have a story about community, or even just want to read what others have to say, please visit The High Calling.

Photograph of Budapest traffic by Mick Lissone via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission.

Coming Home: An Epiphany

It began in laughter and ended in weeping, but I think I met the Holy Spirit in a former Communist Party social hall in eastern Germany.

In April, 2002, I was part of a three-man communication team sent by our church for eight days to central Europe – Budapest in Hungary, Prague and Brno in the Czech Republic, and Dresden in Germany. We had a cameraman, a team leader/organizer/gaffer/go-fer, and me, the writer. Our purpose was to film and write stories for our denomination’s Central European mission. There had never been a short-term mission team like ours before, and both the church and denominational headquarters were nervous and not a little skeptical. But we went.

We trained for months. We plotted our schedule. We determined which missionaries to interview and film, and how the written and video stories could be used for both promoting the mission and for missionary reports to home churches and supporters. The church leader who organized our team kept reminding us of always being open to God changing our plans. We nodded and made more plans.

As we waited in the St. Louis airport for our flight to Chicago/Frankfurt, we saw a TV news report about a gunman killing 13 students and teachers in Erfurt, Germany. We were shocked like everyone else but didn’t consider how it might affect our trip.

When we landed in Budapest, the first words we heard were, “They want to send you to Erfurt.” There wasn’t a good explanation. As we were driven to our home base, we were told there had been a flurry of transatlantic emails and calls while we were en route and the denomination wanted us to go. But the decision was ours. Our packed schedule offered no time for a change. Our team leader shook his head. “This would wreck everything,” he said.

We sat is silence for a time, and then. Remembering the leader’s words in St. Louis, I said, “Maybe this is what it means when God changes your plans.”

The next day, we went to church and then left for Dresden, stopping long enough to sleep and film two interviews. Then we drove to Erfurt.

We had a contact name in Erfurt – the young pastor of a small church. He would meet us as we exited the autobahn and drive us to his church, and then to the school. But we really didn’t know what we were supposed to do.

He was waiting as planned. I rode with him to talk about the interview while the others followed in our vehicle. The pastor and I looked at one another – and started laughing for no discernible reason. The car filled with our laughter, and something else as well – the sense that we had known each other for a very long time.

He had spent the previous three days ministering to families – families who had lost spouses, children, friends. He had had a total of four hours of sleep. He was unshaven and had dark circles under his eyes. He was spent physically, spiritually and emotionally. Yet we were laughing.

The church building was a former social hall for the local Communist Party, transformed into a beautifully simple worship space. While our team leader went exploring, the cameraman and I sat with the pastor, and we began to talk as the camera rolled.

About five minutes into the conversation, I asked the pastor how he was personally dealing with all he had had to face over the previous three days. He lowered his head and said nothing. It was when I began to weep that I realized he was as well, as was the cameraman.

He was exhausted; we were still jetlagged. Perhaps that explains it. But we suddenly seemed surrounded simultaneously by both sadness and joy, anguish and relief, as if God was weeping with us as he held the three of us tightly together. Our hearts were simultaneously broken and healed.

Days later, I tried to explain to the head of the Central Mission in Budapest what had happened in Erfurt.

All I could tell him was that I knew I had come home.

Christianity Today’s Books and Culture is asking for stories of epiphanies. Links are being posted on their Facebook page.

Greg Darley's "Passion Is Not Enough"

The idea of having passion for what you do or want to be has assumed the status of legend and myth, especially in but not limited to business. Insert “passion” and “business” in the search bar at Amazon.com and you’ll see more than a thousand results.

Passion is big business these days – and we’re not talking about romantic passion. The idea is take your passion – and turn into a business, a mission, a life. Do what you’re passionate about. Live your passion.

Greg Darley, director for Backstage Leadership.org has come along in Passion Is Not Enough: 4 Elements to Change the World to inject some much needed sanity into this discussion of passion, especially as it relates to ministry and mission. No matter what you set your mind to do – a new business, writing, art, music, ministry, mission – passion is not enough, he says. It’s important, but “success,” however defined, requires far more than passion.

In fact, he says, it requires four things: calling, character, doctrine and commitment.

Darley structures the book like a basic, simple road map. It’s not so much a step-by-step guide or instruction book as it is a detailed overview, utilizing stories and examples (from the life of the author as well as the lives of others).

The writing is engaging, straightforward and fast-paced, making the work both a thought-provoking and easy read. And it’s full of common sense and wisdom, wisdom based on life. Though Biblically based, the book is written to appeal to a broad audience.

So if you have something in mind that you know will change the world, remember that passion is not enough. And remember to read this book first.